Ascalon was in a foul mood.
That merchant of unknown origin—whatever he had discussed with the Doctor—was now preparing to stay aboard Rhodes Island for several days.
Even though Kal'tsit had opposed it firmly, under the persuasion of the Doctor and Her Highness Theresa, she had ultimately relented.
Ascalon had no quarrel with their judgment, but there was no denying it… this decision had multiplied her workload.
Judging from the way he had "entered" Rhodes Island, only a handful within Babel Tower could actually keep him restrained.
Thus, Kal'tsit had tasked her with watching Satan's every move.
And Ascalon did not take that lightly. Anyone who could move freely across Kazdel's countless battlefields was not someone to underestimate. She would need to remain on high alert at all times.
---
That man—Satan—loved nothing more than wandering aimlessly through Rhodes Island.
He never bothered others, but he also never stayed put.
Always drifting into crowded spaces: the cafeteria, the lounge, the corridors.
Everywhere, the image of a suited gentleman appeared.
Fortunately, whatever the Doctor had told him seemed to have worked. At least he had not insisted on conducting his so-called "transactions" within Babel Tower itself.
What on earth is this lunatic thinking?
Hidden in the shadows, Ascalon studied him with quiet suspicion.
At that moment, Satan had seated himself at a table in the cafeteria. With a snap of his fingers, an exquisite Victorian-style tea service appeared upon the table—cakes, milk tea, biscuits, and more.
In Kazdel, sugar was scarce.
Such a spread of sweets instantly drew curious glances from every direction.
"…Satan, could you at least try to keep a lower profile?"
For days now, W had been stuck as his guide, and her nerves were wearing thin.
Even she understood: when everyone else was scraping by, flaunting such luxury was ill-advised.
Babel Tower was not lacking in supplies, true, but it certainly wasn't wealthy enough to provide Victorian high tea in the cafeteria. To maintain a steady supply of meat was already considered fortunate.
"Relax, W."
Satan's voice was smooth, almost indulgent.
He sipped his tea leisurely, savoring each bite of dessert with unhurried grace.
At first, W fidgeted in discomfort. Then, gradually, numbness set in. Finally, the cloying sweetness drifting from the pastries tempted her beyond patience.
"Go on, eat. I can't possibly finish all of these alone… If no one helps me, I'll just have to let them go to waste."
Satan dabbed his lips with a napkin.
W hesitated only briefly before reaching toward the tray.
"Wash your hands first, W."
"…You're such a pain," she muttered under her breath—but still obeyed, heading off to the sink.
Watching her retreating figure, Satan's smile did not falter.
So, this mercenary actually worries about me?
Could it be that the Sarkaz King's hold isn't as absolute as it seems… that she can't entirely sway this one?
Or perhaps the rumors are true, and Theresa really does treat her own people with unusual leniency?
…No. I need more information. The intelligence Theresis provided may not be entirely reliable.
W's earlier warnings had not gone unheard.
But Satan always followed his own thoughts.
---
Satan's days of extravagance had barely lasted when someone finally approached him.
"Um… Mister Satan, excuse me. Could I perhaps try some of that food? I can pay you for it…"
One of the more gluttonous staff members of Babel Tower, unable to resist, had approached Satan as he sat at a cafeteria table, indulging in his customary tea.
"Of course you may… though I don't need your money."
Satan gestured for the man to sit, but the offer only made him hesitate.
After all, the most expensive price was often attached to what came free.
Yet when he saw W across the table, happily devouring the desserts without worry, he faltered, then asked cautiously:
"…Then, what do I need to give in return?"
He knew at least this much: Satan's reputation was not simple. The man was a merchant who lived by the creed of equivalent exchange.
"Relax. If I were truly dangerous, do you think Her Highness Theresa would allow me to remain aboard Rhodes Island?"
Satan pushed a plate of cake toward him.
"I only wish to hear how you see Her Highness Theresa. You see, when I first arrived, I offered her my allegiance—but she refused."
He took a measured sip of milk tea.
"Perhaps it was because of the little… conflict that occurred when I arrived, which left a poor impression. But mostly, it was my impatience. I wanted too quickly to prove my worth, to prove that I had the strength to ease her burdens."
His words were full of conviction, brimming with professed loyalty to Kazdel's true heir.
Of course, he knew his story contained holes—many of them. But that didn't matter. As long as it muddied the waters, it served its purpose.
"Unfortunately, I've been away from Kazdel for many years. I know little of what Her Highness is truly like… Could you enlighten me?"
The gluttonous staffer hesitated, then began to speak, sharing his own impression of Theresa.
The Sarkaz people were scattered far and wide, and among them lived many ancient beings. If Satan truly was one such long-lived wanderer—someone who had remained hidden until now, but chose to resurface out of loyalty to the royal line—it would explain his sudden rise during the war, and why he had immediately sworn fealty upon seeing Theresa.
Not all long-lived ones flaunted their existence like the Ursus duke. Many preferred to live quietly, unnoticed, across the land.
---
"Thank you for clearing my doubts. Still, I hope to learn more… from every perspective."
When the tea was finished, Satan snapped his fingers. In an instant, the dishes and leftovers upon the table vanished into thin air.
What a strange… and terrifyingly powerful Originium art, W thought to herself.
She had no idea what his abilities truly encompassed, only that they seemed to cover everything—conjuring objects from thin air, teleportation, inducing sleep, weaving illusions…
If we could bring him over to our side, Her Highness's chances would surely increase…
Yes. If Satan truly wishes to shoulder Her Highness's burdens, then I, W, will be the one to connect him to her!
Satan, however, paid no mind to W's idle thoughts.
His own mind was set: to know Theresa better, to know the so-called Sarkaz King more deeply…
And then, to prepare for the moment he would kill her—and seize her power for himself.
---
"Your Highness Theresis, according to the reports we've received, Satan has already arrived at Rhodes Island. Should we immediately carry out the Decapitation Plan?"
"No. Delay the operation."
"Yes, sir!"
When his subordinate departed, Theresis drew out a single photograph of his sister.
In it, Theresa was smiling brightly, full of joy.
"…"
He quietly put the photo away.
The Sarkaz King must never fall into the hands of outsiders.